4/30/2008

Now I know you must be a busy person, ma'am, and I can see that your three kids make their share of messes. I also know you must be having a hard time as a single mom (I couldn't help but notice you aren't wearing a wedding ring).

But listen: if you and I are going to have a future together, you need to do something about that stanky minvan you are driving.

Listen - I understand cars can get a little cluttered, and Lord knows I've left my share of CDs and gym bags and whatnot laying around in my fine-ass 2003 Honda Civic Si. I do baby my four-wheeled slice of heaven, though, what with its 2.0-liter dual overhead cam motor with a factory rated 160 hp coupled with 132 lb-ft of torque, and a total displacement of 1998cc, its static compression ratio of 9.8:1, the finely-machined 16 valves, and those four imported pistons whose 86mm bore diameters travel in a "square motor" configuration of 86mm stroke.

But I digress.

The first time you opened the hatch, my nose was hit with a smell that was equal parts dead cat and moldy chicken nuggets, with a dash of dirty diaper for good measure. I about blew chunks right there in the parking lot, and if you weren't wearing that tank top, with your bouncing I'm-nursing-so-they're-really-huge tits a-swinging in the back set there, I would have turned my ass right around and made Ricardo, the retarded cart boy, help you with your groceries.

Look - we might have some kind of future, and I took the hint when you gave me that dollar for loading your groceries that you are all about jumping on the stallion for a wild ride. But if you can't get rid of that God-awful smell in your car, there ain't never gonna be a "you and me."

4/24/2008

(Toledo, OH) Larry Pelham acknowledges that he has been a patron of area adult video parlors for most of his adult life.

"I can remember when you could watch a 10-minute porno for 50 cents," he said. "Back in the day, a fellow could enjoy himself real cheap like, and still have a couple of bucks to get a sandwich and a soda afterwards."

Pelham expressed anger with reporters over what he calls "thieving hustlers" at the Alexis Road Adult Video store.

"How can they live with themselves knowing that they make so much money off the working man?" he asked, pausing to scratch his rear end. "I mean, they've been showing the same 16mm clips for twenty fucking years, Scotch-taped together when they break. It's not as if they've been spending money on going digital or whatnot."

As an example, Pelham described the $.25 peep show being advertised on the store's marquee.

"So I plunk in a quarter and I haven't even got my dick out before time's up," he recalled, picking at something in his ear. "I toss in two more quarters, and the clip ends just as I am getting going. Then I have to go out and get some change, and after four more quarters, I'm just about to shoot my wad and then BAM! Show's over, I'm going limp, and I'm out of fucking quarters. Total bullshit, if you ask me."

Pelham also bemoaned the "rank nasty" condition of the private booth.

"Look - I know that a thousand dudes have been here before me, so I ain't expecting the Trump Plaza," he said. "Still, it's hard to develop a relationship with the on-screen actress when the room smells like rancid jizz, and you're stepping on Fritos and popcorn and Taco Bell wrappers and whatnot. For my money, the joint needs a good douching, if you ask me."

4/21/2008

Jordan, we've been friends since way back in October, and I like coming over to your house to play video games and make prank phone calls and stuff. Your mom buys lots of cool snacks like Oreos and PopTarts, which is good, 'cuz my mom only buys "healthy snacks" like carrots and apples and crapola.

But I definitely don't like your little brother Derek hanging around us, 'cuz he always smells like pee.

I mean, what's up with that? Does the little dude ever change his whitey-tighties, or what? I was sitting next to him while we were playing Grand Theft Auto and every time he moved his legs, all you could smell was stinking piss.

I really think he just pees his pants or something. Maybe he ought to be wearing diapers or those Big Boy Pullups, like my 3-year-old brother Jason wears, walking around saying "I'm a big boy" like it's something special not to have dookie sticking to your butt.

The only good thing is it's springtime, and we can open some windows so Mr. Pee Pee Pants doesn't stink up your house. But you know what? Even my dog Molly smells better than Derek, and she rolls around in her own mess and eats her own puke and stuff.

It's not my business, but Derek has got to do something about his stanky self, or we are going to have to move the PS-3 outside.

4/17/2008

I was reading today where Pope Benedict XVI met with a bunch of people who were sexually abused by priests, and I have to say that some people have all the damned luck. Too bad for me: my childhood never featured some raving pedophile priest trying to trick me into the sacristy and ramming me hard up the poop chute.

If a only a Catholic priest had diddled me, I could've met the freaking Pope.

But no - all the priests in my grade school and at Blessed Sacrament parish were all your normal, boring, Three-Hail-Marys-and-a-Rosary types. Not once did a priest try to convince me that Jesus wanted me to let Father suck on my prepubescent schlong, nor did a priest ever try to climb in my sleeping bag on a campout and try to shove his quivering, gristly knob up my unsuspecting asshole.

Not me. No sir: I never had a priest dress up as a naughty nun and have me give him a reacharound while I pounded his greased bunghole with my adolescent boner as he sang "Ave Maria" in a lusty falsetto. And I never had a priest take one of the Fun-O-Rama petting donkeys and make me give the beast a blowjob, while he jerked off his throbbing purple-headed chode behind a stack of musty hay bales.

Nope. Now my only chance is to travel to the Vatican and wait in line with a million other losers hoping I win the papal lottery for a 10-second blessing. Christ, if I had known that getting a withered priest-cock shoved down my gagging throat was a ticket to glory, I would've been chasing those befrocked fuckers into the confession booth myself.

"Straight up: that was some awful, awful carnage," Baxter recalled. "I seen two dudes walking around with no arms, and blood spurting out their ripped shoulders like red water gushing from a garden hose, and there were three - THREE - fuckers completely decapitated, heads rolling around like lopsided bowling balls and shit. I swear to God, it was ten times worse than anything I seen over there in 'Nam, that's for damned sure."

Baxter said that emergency personnel were unprepared for the extent of the casualties.

"Listen - half-a-dozen of those EMS techs were puking by the side of the road, pouring out chunky blasts of vomit in unison, like they practiced the shit beforehand, barbershop-quartet style," he said. "And I never seen so many cops crying, collapsed on the freeway shoulder crying like a bunch of baby kittens dumped in a vat of bacon grease. Christ!"

The roadside tragedy was not without its positive aspects, Baxter was quick to point out.

"After they got the blood all mopped up, I noticed this blonde paramedic hottie looking at me while she packed up her paramedic shit," he recalled. "Next thing I know, me and her is going at it right there on highway, her ass getting all sticky with blood and gravel and pieces of burnt tires and shit. Then she tells me: 'Shoot your load on that dead guy's head.' Seemed kinda sacreligious to me, being Catholic and all, so I says 'no way, baby,' then she goes down on me, deep-throat-no-gag. After she sucked me off, she walks over to this sorry-looking chopped-off head and horks out my jizz, just a-loogeying it down in the fucker's empty eye socket. I swear to God - people are fucking strange, if you ask me."

4/07/2008

Lookie, lookie at Little Lord Fauntleroy and shit, sitting over there with his mothernothing uptight-ass girlfriend and shit. Yeah, I'm talking to you, peckerweeder-face, acting all bad and mmppphhhh and glungggg.

Listen...listen...LISTEN! That's what I'm talking about over here, while you and your thinks-she's-all-klobbyhardy and shit fucking smirking SMIRKING, I'll wipe that smile off your fuzzlereedypocker, that's what!

4/01/2008

"Yeah, I spend quite a few hours cruising the wealthy neighborhoods looking for unattended houses that are ripe for the picking," he noted. "And it used to be that my van usually got mistaken for a plumber's vehicle."

Lately, though, Holland said that his white van is more likely to carry more sinister connotations.

"Now every soccer mom in the area is hyped up over pedophiles coming to snatch their little darlings," he mused. "So when I'm casing a neighborhood, you can bet that some uptight bitch is on the phone with 911, demanding the cops come check out a pervert. Listen: for the record, I like 30-year-old women with long legs, firm asses, and big hooters, OK? I'm pretty normal, if you ask me."

Holland also took to task local police, who he says are engaged in unfair stereotyping.

Even worse, Holland pointed out, is the fact that he has faced problems in his own neighborhood.

"Listen: I don't eat where I shit, if you know what I mean," he said. "So when I'm pulling up to my own house and unloading a bunch of heisted goods, I don't need the extra attention, right? But I can't even drive this fucker to a Taco Bell drive-thru without getting tailed by a cop. I think it's time to start driving an ice-cream truck or some other shit."

Copyright 2007, Toledo Tales ® . Unauthorized duplication prohibited, but feel free to link away. This is a satirical newspaper, and many of these stories are fictional. You have to guess which ones are faked. Toledo Tales ® uses invented names in its stories, except when public figures are being satirized, or when we post a real story. Any other use of real names is accidental and coincidental. Subcomandante Bob once got jiggy with your mom, and she does things in bed that would shock you, dude.
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